Hyperrearing Gamindustri Raising Project: The Prince Has Four Mommas
by Reality Dolphin
Summary: Gamindustri is not known for very many great men. Most of them are evil, and those that aren't tend just to be irrelevant in the best of cases. The CPUs have grown tired of the really rather useless men of the world and have taken it upon themselves to mold a mere NPC boy into a man worthy enough to be called a Prince. Because they're the ones most qualified for the job, obviously.
1. Chapter 1

First, the stage is pitch to my eyes, and then the spotlight gets on me. It'd be blinding if my eyes weren't to my feet, but the sudden sound of that heavy shutter opening is enough to make me jump in my shoes. To my left is dark. To my right is dark. All there is around me is dark, dark and more dark except for the light that points me out as the only person to see.

Another light flashes on with that same heavy sound for emphasis, but this wasn't another spotlight, but a single horizontal bar shining from high above me, tinted a bleach white.

"You there," a voice, deep and distorted, calls out to me from the direction of that white light, "state your name."

I'm nervous to respond, but I still do. I give my name, my age, my nationality, and a few other things I wasn't asked for.

"We only asked for your name, the rest is no concern of ours," said the voice.

I swallow my breath to clear my throat when another light switches on, this one a purple bar in line with the white one, though a ways away.

"Aww..." Another voice chimes in, distinct from the first in pitch and delivery. "That's still such a boring name. I was hoping he'd at least shorten it, or have a cool nickname with adjectives and nouns and maybe even some of those agreeable subject verb things."

Between the purple and white bars comes a green light. I'm noticing a pattern.

"Don't be disheartened, Friends." A third voice drops in, and I notice that this and the second one have kinda ruined that menacing atmosphere that was going on a second ago. "Even in situations such as this, the player, or _players_ in our case, is allowed some level of customization."

"Focus!" The first voice shouts to send his/her compatriots back to the scene. "Now, do you know why you're here?"

"Huh?" The second voice starts, and with only their disembodied, distorted voices here, I'm having a bit of trouble following who's talking. "Of course I know why we're here, we grabbed up an NPC and we were gonna..."

"Not you! Arrgh!"

Seeing as how I've been forgotten, I've decided to name these voices to better follow what's going on. White is Raphael, purple is Michelangelo, and green is Donatello. I realize that Donnie should be purple, but I guess we're breaking trends, here.

"Umm...," Donnie takes the mic as Raph vents over Mikey, "I don't mean to break you to apart when you're getting along so well, but our fourth wheel seems to be having some technical issues."

Those shutters are sounding off and on again, but no fourth light accompanies the sounds.

"Oh fourth voice of mystery, what's going on with you?" Mikey asks, saving me the trouble.

"Ummm..." I chittered in. "Look, I'm not sure what's going on, but if this is a cutscene then I'm not your guy. It's been months since I last applied for a nondescript NPC role."

"Did you really try and use black painted lights in a pitch dark room?" Raphael is taking the last of their group to task. "You should have just went with a blue light. Ugh! Now this whole scene is ruined!"

"Wow. This whole thing fell to pieces and I'm not even the one to blame. This'd be amazing if it wasn't so totally, like, E Rank disappointing," said Mikey.

Whoever number four here is, I'm glad they didn't use a blue light. Blue is Leonardo's color, and they obviously don't deserve to be the Leo. They can be a Rabbid instead.

"Oh forget this!"

Raphael's white light went out, and Mikey and Donnie's purple and green lights shut off immediately after. Now, I'm in the dark all by my lonesome.

"Was I going to become relevant anytime soon?" I asked the void.

"Wait a sec!" A new voice, this one natural in pitch, undistorted, and girly sounding, shouted back at me. "Sorry about all this thisness. We're consulting tech support, and we promise to be back in a short, so leave a message after the beep. Beep!"

I'll just assume that was Mikey's natural voice...

"I suggest you partake in some reading while you wait." Donatello's elegant inflection reaches me from within the darkness, now sounding much more feminine sans the distortion.

An arm extends into my spotlight with a gloved hand holding out a dubious looking magazine with the header, _Heaven x Boys_ above the image of two male-ish looking fellows with addorsed glances from each other as their fingers are intertwined. I accept the volume, pinching the bottom corner of the spine, but I have the sinking suspicion that this particular mag isn't in my genre.

"Thank you?" I say.

"You're quite welcome," says Donatello before her(?) arm recedes back into the black.

I choose to stay quiet. From all around there sounds of arguing, the clanking and shuffling of equipment, and all without any names crossing the air for me to hear. I wish I had my iPad with me. Oh wait can I even say that? I didn't say that, but am I allowed to think that?

The spotlight on me shuts off, and I regret thinking about my iPad when every ceiling light above me kicks on for me to see the gray metal pillars and cushioned pews all around. I'm in a bascillicom. I was in Planeptune before getting manhandled and left in the dark, so I'll guess that I wasn't taken into another nation.

"Ahem!" Mikey calls for attention, only it's not Mikey.

Mikey never had purple hair. Actually, I'm pretty sure Mikey never had hair to begin with, and I'm definitely sure he was never an adorable young girl in a white hoodie... Never outside of fan art, at least.

There is no Michelangelo here to speak with me. Nor is there a Raphael or a Donatello, and I thank every goodness there is that there aren't any Rabbids here. As for the four people that are here before me, they're a lot more..., womanly than the Turtles.

"Sorry about that! Our poor Noire had an issue with her light bulb," said Neptune, the Console Patron Unit and figurehead of this nation of Planeptune, resplendant in her hoodie and blue and white striped thigh high stockings. "I guess the ominous lights in the darkness thing doesn't work so well when your coordinated color is black. Who'da thunk it, am I right?"

Standing next to Neptune is Noire, CPU of nearby Lastation, identified easily by her long black twin tails... There are more bits to her, but I don't really care so much about her. I'm not into the twin tails look. If nothing else, all that red in her cheeks is doing something to bolster her aesthetics. Moving on.

"Yes, well, the fault isn't entirely on Noire that her esthetic conceit has made all for naught the planning that went into our intended display. Only most of it," said my Donatello, or rather my busty blonde Donatello—alright this analogy just got weird.

My Donatello was Vert all along. Big, beautiful, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, and bouncy everywhere it counts, Vert. She's wrapped in greens and whites, both lovely colors around lovely tits. Oh, why aren't there any Senran Kagura games on Leanbox consoles? It'd be so perfect...

I apologize to any and all who just read that mess. Anyway, Vert is the CPU of Leanbox and she's here with the rest of them. While I'm not from Leanbox, and from the sound of things I wouldn't approve of the way she rules her dominion anyway, I do think she's probably the best looking, if my ramblings from a paragraph ago weren't evidence for this enough. Seriously though, let the misrule of another nation be damned. Green Heart's tits be, like, crackin', Fam. Pretty sure that right then is Leanbox's national motto, too.

"Oi, did your eyeballs get locked in their sockets or something?" Suddenly, Vert's boobs started talking to me. "At least look at people when you're spoken to. Hey!"

No. Boobs don't talk outside of my dreams. It just appeared that way because my eyes were locked onto Vert's sweater-puppies, and when that happens the rest of the world just melts away. I wasn't being spoken to by a shapely set of boobies. I was being chided by a little brunette girl in a puffy white hat and an oversized fur-trimmed coat. This one is Blanc, the CPU known as White Heart who presides over the nation of Lowee, so, yeah: I _definitely_ wasn't being spoken to by a shapely set of boobies.

"Ugh!" Blanc shudders in distain as I look at her. "I don't know why, but you're already pissing me off," she says, making things a bit difficult for me.

She doesn't like it when I look at tits. She doesn't like it when I look at her and her decided lack of tits. What does she want I do: Ogle Neptune?

Blanc looks aside at her fellow goddesses and says, "Is this guy really our best option?"

"Oh, don't fret your fretters, Blanc!" Said Neptune, displaying her palms. "Remember? I asked Histy about this and I even waited the three days for her answer before I told you guys."

"Neptune's right, and I mean Histoire's right," said Noire, whose complexion is finally back to the normal CPU-ly alabaster. "Lowee's R&D division looked into him, and even they gave the okay, didn't they? He'll be fine."

Wait. I was investigated by a foreign government? Crap, I wouldn't have bought _B**k_ _of Memories_ if I knew there were people watching everything I did...

"Look, whatever you think I did..., I'm not sure if I can explain, but I'll try!" I plead with them. I'm a good man, I promise I am.

"Oh, no need to be alarmed. It's more than just you're conduct we mean to correct, young man," said Vert. "We meant to break the ice with a theatrical approach, but with Noire having failed to produce that, I suppose it's best to just come out with it here."

"I don't understand. Why was I brought here, and why did you need to spy on me for?" I only ask because I'm a pretty normal dude. I don't think I've done anything to get caught up in international espionage.

"You see, the men of Gamindustri are..., an assorted bunch," Vert puts it mildly.

"Yeah, boys are weirdos," and Neptune cuts to the chase. "There've been evil guys trying to topple governments, evil guys that pirate videogames, and then there was that one guy who kept trying to lick girls without asking for permission first, and it's things like that gives this series a bad rep.…! Well, that and all the dodgy CGs."

Noire steps in before Neptune could trail off further. "And since we're the CPUs, it's up to us to lead by example and show the men of Gamindustri how men should act, but..."

"But we're all girls," said Neptune. "And since we don't have any really reliable guys around, we decided to build our own from the base stats up!"

"The codename for this project is Raising Sim," said Blanc. "It's like the _Princess #_ker_ games, but in stead of a princess, the four of us will be making a prince, and that's you. So from this day forth..."

The four CPUs stand together to form a wall in front of me. Each of them put on a smile directed my way. How few people in Gamindustri get to have this pleasure, I wonder.

"We'll be your new mothers!" Is what they all say, but each of them had their own variant of "mother," from the sound of it.

…

Also... What?

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 **Thank you for reading the first chapter. If you'd care to, please leave a review. I'd very much appreciate it.**


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up in the morning to a room that's not your own, or at least that wasn't your own, is always weird the first time. Looking around, I see a lot of white and purple. I'm still in Planeptune, but all my stuff is still back in Lowee, and this guest room here is pretty sparse with its decorations. Next to this bed they've got me in, there's a white end table with a translucent purple lamp on it that looks vaguely like a slime, and that's about it for the decor.

I slink out the purple sheets of my bed, and I fix myself for outside. I wasn't part of the NPC population that got standard character portraits when Re;Birth started up, so I'm still a silhouette, and grooming myself in the morning is pretty easy.

I head out my chambers, barefooted and slovenly, into the bascillicom's hallway. Looking around, the halls are enormous and wide. The interior of Planeptune's bascillicom is somewhere between gothic and contemporary with spaceship white floors and angled ceilings contrasting against the tall flamboyant windows that look like the we ripped out a cathedral. Actually, where do those windows shine out? Whenever I saw Planeptune's bascillicom from the outside it always looked like a giant ice cream cone with the pointy end to the sky.

I walk a ways away, passing the sanctified and other bascillicom staff on my path, each and everyone looking at me like they don't know how. I want to ask what's so strange about me that they're looking at me like they are. Eventually, I'm in front of the door to the CPU's personal wing. I was granted clearance to these quarters yesterday, but I knock on the door because that just polite.

No response but the faint sounds of some fool getting iced in P ^#% Stone pierces the door. I know because I must have lost at least three months of my life to that game. It's a good game.

"Oh! Blanc, why?" I think that was Noire screaming in anguish and defeat.

I knock again, and this time my knuckles hit the door with all the force of my want to join in and play P ^#% Stone.

"Hold on a minute!" That's Neptune's voice from the other side the door. She says something else, probably to someone else, but I can't make out from this side. "Aww man!"

I hear the light pitter stomps of an almost-loli girl(woman?) getting louder from inside. The door slides open to Neptune, goddess patron of the place, and my one lavender-haired mommy out of the four... If that reads weird to you, it thinks weird to me.

"What 'cha want?" Said my Purple Mama, and... I'll never call her that out loud. "Oh, well if it isn't the prodigy's son! Good afternoon, sleeping handsomeness! Ho, ho, ho! Somebody slept in late didn't you?"

I could pick apart everything that was wrong with that line, but then I'd be at the door way all day and I'll have missed my chance to play P ^#% Stone.

"Afternoon? Lady Neptune, it's seven thirty... In the morning, too!" I say.

"Oh, is it? I would have figured that we'd have played at least until three before you came wondering where we were," says Neptune, her tone full of pride. Why for, I have no idea. "I guess it's unavoidable after all. I won't have as much time for my own pleasures when I've got a little one of myself's to raise..."

She stands silently, basking in all her "maternal" glory with eyes closed and a hand on each hip. I can't tell if this is where I'm supposed to chime in or not, but I think it's better I not because that speech was so weak that it makes a T*ger handheld look like the cutting edge of gaming modernity.

"Anyway, that's why I'm glad we got ours used!" She says, slapping me on the arm like the proud mother she thinks she is.

"I certainly feel used, Lady Neptune," I tell her.

At that, she wags a finger at me. "Don't you 'Lady Neptune' me, young man! I'm you're mother now. Just call me, Purple Mama!"

Either Neptune can read my mind and she's messing with me, or she can't read my mind and the world is messing with me.

"I don't think my lily rank isn't high enough for that, Lady Neptune," I stammer out my words.

"Aww, really?" She pouts. "Oh, well. Until that happens, you can just call me your Pretty Mama? Your lily rank is never too low to tell the truth... Well, unless you're Noire. C'mon! The others can't wait to see you. Probably. It depends on whether or not they've mutual killed yet."

She takes my arm and pulls me away to her game room where my other mothers are duking it out over a game of P ^#% Stone. Neptune's hold hurts a bit, actually, and she's pulling me away a lot more easily than any normal girl of her shape could.

"Guys, I'm back, and I picked up that son of ours!" Said Neptune, to the room of my other mothers. "And he's still in his jammies, the little guy."

My three other mother-CPUs all looked vaguely in my direction with their tired eyes, all shadowed by weariness from some great threesome of a battle. The screen showcased the phrase "TRIPLE KNOCKOUT!" in huge scarlet letters over the image of a ruined submarine, capsized and with holes blown out at various points in its hull, floating on a sea strewn with glaciers. Amidst that mess, not a single player character could be found. Away from the screen, and to my mothers: Noire had a grip on the left trigger of her controller that looked to break it; Vert's grip on her controller was eased in comparison, but she continued to thumb the blue B-button at a one per second pace despite the game being over; Blanc sits on the floor with her hands stuck in place holding an invisible controller as her actual controller lies face buttons down on the floor. So yeah, this is basically what a balls nailed to the table game of P ^#% Stone is like for me, too.

"I'd probably be looking just as undeadly if I hadn't got knocked out early in round six," said Neptune like that's anything to be proud of. "It was a strategical move. I could have fought on, but alart, what kind of mother would I be to let my son bear witness to me in such a dis-shelved form?"

"Neptune, you she-fiend!" Vert rises, wobbling to get up. "My complexion is far too bright and healthy to be compared to a mere undead to be encountered as any random encounter. At least bolster my status to the level of an end boss!"

"Will you shut your..." Blanc breaks her sentence like she just realized I, her son, am in the room and she has to put up a sweet and kind front. "Stop talking, I've got to get my vision straight and all your... _yacking_ isn't helping."

She wanted to say "bitching." I'm sure of it.

Noire, my least involved mother at this point remains silent, squeezing her controller's right trigger for dear life.

"Umm..., should we worry about Lady Noire? She's not saying anything, and it's a little scary."

"Don't call me...!" Noire suddenly comes back to life, but her sudden attempt at standing up makes her shake. "Don't call me Lady Noire. I'm your mother now..., young man."

I reminded her what my name is because she was clearly fishing for it.

"Oh, boy o' ours, didn't we explain how lame your name is?" Said Neptune, whose really not been endearing herself as my mother. "Oh well, don't none of that matter when our son comes greets his mommies, still fresh out of bed and in his PJs. Ain't he cute, guys?"

"Snowmen, that's a little too cute for a boy your age, isn't it?" Said Blanc, with a lightness to her voice that felt a bit patronizing. "I guess I should be happy that my son already identifies with the aesthetics of Lowee."

Wearing snow man jimjams means I identify with an entire nation? I only picked them because snow men are cool... Hey wait a minute.

"You can see my snow men?" I ask, feeling a bit exposed.

I looked down to see my silhouetted body and clothes looking not so much silhouetted anymore. Rather than black and indistinct to non-NPC eyes, my pajamas are blue as the sky and strewn with snowmen and snowflakes. My palms are pallorous, flesh-toned, and... my goodness I'm in color.

"A mirror. A mirror!" I begin to panic because, my goodness, I'm in color!

My sudden scare makes my mothers scramble to look for a mirror. Blanc goes one way, Noire goes another, Vert and Neptune end up running into each other head first, or rather Neptune runs smack into Vert's tits. I'm sure that was on purpose, but I'm not sure whose purpose.

Noire is the one who hands me a full hand mirror. Where she got it, I don't care. Right now, things have happened. Amazing things.

"You didn't expect us to let our son remain a featureless NPC sprite, did you?" Said Noire.

"Yeah, kiddo. We contacted the character designer signer and everything just for this!" Neptune explained. "Well, actually we couldn't get the Date a Live lady right away so we got the artist from.."

Noire then shut Neptune's mouth because she was saying some meta-nonsense that really just takes away from all that is happening now, and all that's happening now is the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. I was adopted by four literal goddesses yesterday, and today is when shit gets real.

"I'm... I'm..." I take a breath. "I'm gorgeous!"

"Yep!" Neptune removed Noire's hand from over her mouth, though she's still being held back. "We didn't want you looking too much like anyone over the other, so we gave you Noire's pretty black hair, Vert's eyes that are, like, super blue, you've got Blanc's bodytype and hairstyle, and of course I'd be wrong if you'd be given anything but my _beautiful_ round face!"

Neptune was right on all accounts. My hair, my face, my eyes, my height, and wait just a second as I raise up the legs of my pants. Yep! I've got them. It's official, I'm a boy lolita, I'm a shotaro boy, I'm whatever you want to call me that means beautiful young boy because I've got the calves to make it work! How old was I before all this? I don't remember. I was old enough to drink, but there's no way any bar will let me in looking like this/ I'm gorgeous now, and all that came before is irrelevant.

Seriously, am I a boy, or am natural enemy number one of the cougar? Just set me out in the open and the older women will come straight to me.

"This is probably a lot for you to take in all at once," said Blanc, and she's not wrong. "But things are going to be different for you from th-"

I grabbed her and squeezed her in my svelte, girlish boy arms.

"Momma!" I squealed. "Mommies! The four of you, all of you, thank you so much!"

Tears fill my eyes, and I don't know what else to say. I squeeze and squeeze, and my goodness how did I not notice this before. I'm in color, everybody! World, hear me! I am in color!

"Hey!" Blanc, or Momma Blanc, rather, stutters a protest, but even she gives into her son's boy lolita charms. "Well, I'm glad you're happy, I guess..." She returns my hug.

I've never been so happy before in all my life. My goodness. The world has been good to me. What else can I ask for now that I'm live and in color.

"Blanc, no fair!" Momma Neptune protests. "You can't just hog him to yourself like that!"

"Agreed!" Momma Vert joins Momma Neptune in voicing her displeasure. "My bosom is the most matronly. It should be my chest that our son jumps into without a second thought! How unfair! Noire, don't you agree?"

"What? No!" Momma Noire panics. "Son or not, I don't know what I'd do if a boy just jumped into me like that!"

"Hmph!" Momma Blanc starts. "I guess it's only natural that he embrace me first since I'm the most fitting for the position. Don't worry, Noire. If you can't perform, I'm mother enough by myself."

In truth, I only hugged Momma Blanc because she was the closest. I could say that, but I don't want this euphoria to end. I'm on top of the world, people! I don't think I'm even five feet tall anymore, but I'm on top of the world! Woo hoo!"

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 **Thank you for reading. If you'd care to, please leave your comments for this chapter in a review. I'd very much appreciate it.**


	3. Chapter 3

"I think Nepemyu would be a great name!" Said Momma Neptune, whose arguments fell on deaf ears.

"Of course you'd think that," said Momma Blanc, "We can't go and name him something that'll just get changed across regions."

"Oh, Blanny, that doesn't matter, does it? It doesn't look like the Rat-Thingy-Guy has too many problems with it."

Mommas Vert and Noire are also here, and they're siding with Momma Blanc's opposition.

"Neptune," Momma Vert began, "I understand your reasoning, but isn't your suggestion a tad selfish? He's the son of all four of us, in case you've forgotten."

Momma Noire came in with a sashay to her stride and her arms crossed. "Yeah, Neptune. You don't see me calling him Pokénoir, do you?"

That'd just make me sound like Momma Blanc's joint venture... Oh crap. This discussion is getting too meta, even for this series.

"I feel it horribly archaic to name our son after one of those obsolete solid state memory drives." Momma Vert is getting incredibly technical about all this. "The implications of storage capacity measured in MB's are less than reassuring as they are without the standard for those being in the single digits."

"Yeah, but even if we put him in the gigas, there'll be problems if we don't present it right...," said Momma Noire, the last part of her sentence slowing to a murmur.

"Well if anyone knows how to screw up SSD's, it's you, Noire!" Momma Neptune pats her on the back, sounding a bit like she didn't know how much of a put down that was. "But that's really the problem with games these days. Everyone's just given up on cartridges that remember things on their own... Well except Blanc, of course."

"To hell with memory!" said Momma Blanc, who I hope is getting as tired of this discussion as I am. "What's important is software, and if we don't put some serious thought into that, then there's no way he'll survive!"

If it were that important, then it really should have come up earlier, don't you think?

My four mommas livened up Planeptune's Bascillicom with their heated discussion about the decision of my name. My input so far has been negligible, but I guess that's really the ultimate truth of all this isn't it? I should be happy that I attained some degree of worldly relevance by association with my mommas, but that's where all importance seems to end for me. Oh, well.

"Excuse me." A bit of nervous stuttering catches my ear. "I'm sorry, I've been wanting to get your attention for a while, but it's difficult when you don't really have a name yet."

To my left is tea tray carried by a long lavender haircut in the top half of a sailor uniform and striped thigh highs, all of which went unnoticed by me by the oppressive force of _un_ -memorability. Perhaps it would more accurate just to call it a lack of any staying power, but most people just call her Nepgear, the CPU Candidate of Planeptune, and accepted younger sister of my Momma Neptune. And I guess makes her my aunty.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't notice you there," I sputter.

Speaking of not knowing what to call people, what do I call Nepgear? It feels wrong to call her "aunty," because she looks like such a younger girl. Although she is a goddess, and she looks older than Neptune, and I've her accepted as my mother. Come to think of it, I'm a beautiful shota-boy now, so why can't I call her my aunty?

"I don't think we've met yet. I'm Nepgear, the CPU candidate," she explains what I already know.

"I know who you are, Aunty Nepgear," I say, trying my best at a shotaro smile.

Her face lights up at that. It's too bad she's my aunty now. If I were this beautiful looking before I might've been able to seduce her. It probably wouldn't work out well for me, but I could at least try. I'm tempted to try it even now, but as much as the CPUs like to incest it up, I don't think Gamindustri is ready for an avunculate relationship. Maybe some day, we might live in a better, more accepting society, but until then—What the goodness am I going on about? No! Bad, whatever my name is going to be! Don't you dare think about seducing your aunty!

"Oh, wow. I didn't think I really get called that," Aunty Nepgear seems befuddled, which is cute NO!

"Well you're my Momma's sister," the sister of one of my mommas, rather, "so that makes you my Aunty!" I say, riding on the shotaro card as high as I can.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, um, Nephew." Aunty Nepgear tries her best to compose herself.

"You can just call me Nibling, if you want. It means about the same thing." Also, it's homophonous with nibbling, so we can pretend you want to chew me and have people look at you funny when you call me that.

"Oh? Okay, then I'll just call you Nibling!" she says, which makes me chuckle to hear. "I'm glad we settled what I'll call you so easily. It looks like my sister and the others are having a hard time of deciding on your name."

She looks over to my quarreling mommas, none of whom look like any progress has been made.

"Okay, so we've scratched out Nepemyu, Pokénoir, Yuemdee, Sram, Konpakku, and Rokkujuyonjibipakku," says Momma Neptune, who's holding a note pad that I see doesn't have anything actually written on it. "Blanc, I think you're the one that's coming up with the weirdest names for him."

"I only came up with that last one as joke, so clean the shit out of your ears!" Momma Blanc shouts.

I turn toward Aunty Nepgear, "I think they're having fun," I say.

"If you say so." She doesn't seem quite as sure as I am.

"Should we go somewhere else?" I ask because I'm half scared for my life, and half desperate to trigger an aunty x nephew skinship event.

"Don't worry. They're not going to fight in the game room. This is probably is the safest place to be right now."

I silently curse my rotten luck. I was hoping my mommas would fight so I could console in myself with Aunty Nepgear.

"Maybe we require a third opinion," said Momma Vert.

Another opinion in picking a name for me would be great. It's just too bad _I_ can't be that other opinion.

"Nepgear, what would you name your nephew?"

Aunty Nepgear takes up a pondering posture with a finger under her chin. I'm still sore that they won't just let me keep my own name, but at least I get to fill my alliteration quota this way.

"Well, since he's supposed to be the son of all four of you, why shouldn't he be named Neppuburanowaber," she says, with absolute and total seriousness about her.

No one said a thing, and echos of Neppuburanowaber resonated in the game room.

"Is that a no?" she asks. "Neppuburanowaber, you know from the first couple syllables in everyone's names. It'd be easily translated across regions I think. Guys?"

My four mommas turned their backs to Nepgear and continued their debate. I stood up and walked to the opposite end of the room while trying my hardest to purge "Neppuburanowaber" from my memory.

"We wouldn't say the whole thing every time!" Aunty Nepgear, who I'm not ever sure should have that title, defends her suggestion instead of letting it die like the rest of us are content to do. "We could shorten it to Nepbu, or Bubu, or something. Everyone..."

Time moves on for all things, but Neppuburanowaber can disappear into the annals of history forevermore. So long, you ridiculous mess of seven syllables.

 **...**

It's been hours, and with no consensus on my name in sight, my mommas went out on the town to see if inspiration is striking elsewhere. Whatever they choose, I can say with little doubt that it'll be better than the crime against pronunciation that was what Aunty Nepgear came up with earlier. If they some how do, I'd rather rip the skin off my silhouette and go back to being an NPC.

In the mean time, I've decided to console Aunty Nepgear because there's obviously something wrong with her that she can come up with such horror. Right now, I'm helping her assemble a model mech from a grab bag of parts.

"I didn't know you could put these together out of any number of parts like this," I say, finding my presence here a bit useless, but what else is new?

I'm a man (shota) in Gamindustri. We don't do much..., actually that's the whole reason I'm here, isn't it?

"Well, it's a lot more difficult making a custom mech without any blueprints, and the results aren't always great, but when they do end up nice they really shine," Aunty Nepgear herself is shining with all this talk of tabletop models. She's really putting herself into it. "And when I'm done, no one will think Neppubura Nowaber is a bad name. I'll show them. I'll show everyone!"

Aunty Nepgear should seek help, but she is right about one thing, that name fits a model robot a whole lot better than it'd ever fit me.

"You do that, Aunty Nepgear. I'm rooting for you." I'm rooting for you to hurry up and make the robot so we can put an end to using that name.

Aunty Nepgear is entering into some sort of zen state where her eyes are bugging out and her hands move with mechanical precision as she pieces together her stupidly named robot model. I take a step back because I think she'd snap my neck if I were to mess up her work in anyway.

As I distance myself, the sliding doors to the game room open. My mommas have returned, and Momma Neptune is the first of them inside, tackling me down with all the mighty force of a goddess momma. At least I think this is all the force a goddess momma has to offer. I'm not even sure what level she is right now.

"Oh, son o' mine (and Nepgear), I'm home, and I've got some super groovy news!" said Momma Neptune, pinning my back to the floor.

Aunty Nepgear turns to see us, "Wait, why was my name in parenthasies like that?" she asks as her hair whips and knocks over the yet completed model Neppubura Nowaber. "Oh no! Please let the pieces not be broken. Please let the glue not be in my hair!"

"Neptune!" That's my Momma Noire calling. "We told you not to run. You better not have told him without us!"

"Told me what? Do I have a name now?" I'm equal parts excited and in pain. Momma Neptune hits hard for such a tiny thing.

Momma Neptune sits up on my abdomen, which is something you really shouldn't do to your kids. It hurts.

"Well, kiddo, we went over to the local prison," Momma Neptune starts her story off with an alarming statement. "And while we were there, we decided to ask advice from a friend about your name."

Wait just a minute. If you four are the CPUs, how in the world could a friend of yours be in prison? Did they try and destroy the world or something, and if they did, why are you friends with them? I've so many more questions now.

"So we listened to her, I poked at her horn thingy a bit, and now we need to know what your favorite cat is, okay?"

"I like Folds, but what do cats have to do with anything?" I ask, and I think my question is a pertinent one.

"Well I think folding is cool, I'm not talking about doing laundry or light based weapons. What's your favorite kind of cat, and I mean the big ones that bite peoples heads off like panthers or jaguars."

I still don't see what the point of this is.

"I think tigers are cool," I say so because they are.

"Sounds good to me!" Momma Neptune shouts, popping up to her feet while I'm still on the floor. "Guys, we've got a winner, and it's a Tiger!"

"What?" I'm so confused.

"Okay, boyo, from that second a second ago into the future ever after, your name will be _Tiger_!"

And then I blink as the rest of my mommas come up to me with smiles and Aunty Nepgear crawls around in the background looking for the pieces to her robot.

 **...**

And so, I was named Tiger, son of four CPUs... At least it's a better name than what Aunty Nepgear came up with.

* * *

 **And so our prince finally has a name of his own. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please leave a comment in the reviews. I simply love to hear from you all, so please allow for PMs to come to you. I like to reply to you guys when I can.**


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